


Customer Service

by moonsilk



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: I'm easing myself into this writing thing lololol please leave love & any advice thank you TT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 12:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10876461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonsilk/pseuds/moonsilk
Summary: Junhui is 16, manning the cash register in a stuffy gift shop.





	Customer Service

**Author's Note:**

> Testing, testing...  
> I'm easing myself into this writing thing.

Junhui’s job was simple, in theory. Arrange a cheery smile on his face, direct customers, press a few buttons on the register, and bag whatever odd item. The shop was nice enough too, even though Vernon never appeared to man the second register and would often copy-paste his previous (texted!) apologies for failing to show up. He didn’t know that he would have to do returns -- he didn’t know if the shop even _had_ a return policy. Who would go through the trouble of returning a museum gift shop item, anyway?

The man was tall and balding, sweat dampening his once-crisp shirt and collecting along his upper lip. From his large hands swung the gift shop’s plastic bag, the museum logo and a “Come again soon!,” scrawled across it. Junhui had watched him through the window silently, dread coiling in his stomach as he watched the man stumble into the gift shop sign and kick it with his foot, muttering. His doubts were not eased when the man bent over abruptly to right it.

The bell above the door had brightly signalled ~~his impending doom~~ the man’s arrival. It wasn’t long before he stood before him, in all his perspiring glory. Junhui felt his lips pull back in a polite smile as the man outstretched his hand, offering the gift bag with a gruff, ‘I’d like to return this.”

In no less than ten minutes, Junhui was certain that this was what burning alive felt like. He had definitely sweated out half of his body weight by now. His palms and armpits were slick, and the back of his shirt was beginning to take on a suspiciously damp quality. “Damn it,” he heard the customer mutter, a little too loud. He hurriedly pressed the backspace key on his register, the rapid clicking sounds imitating the beat of his own heart. He didn’t dare to look up at the man as he explained that he would, “only be a moment, sir.” Anxiety unsteadied his movements, and his trembling fingers pressed down a little too hard on the touchscreen pad.

Somehow, the screen changed (the sun shined down and the sweet, sweet heavens sang) and among the array of new buttons stood the big, red, beautiful button. _Return Item_.

Chuckling nervously, he lifted his gaze to meet the customer’s. “I-I’m so sorry, sir.” he paused, forcing a smile to his face again. “So sorry about that. May I have the item you are returning?”

The gift bag now swung from two meaty fingers in front of his nose. Junhui accepted it, and scanned the item silently, holding back a sigh as the screen changed to show the amount due.

The

            item

                        cost

                                    $1.14.

He prayed he wouldn’t mess up the count of change -- he did, but not in the way he expected to. He apologized as he bent down to collect coin after coin, shifting crab-like to rescue a particularly mobile nickel.

“Here you go!” Big smile! “I owe you a dollar fourteen, sir!”

He dropped the change into the grumbling, glowering man’s palm, before quickly retracting his hand to wipe against his pant leg. “Come again soon!”


End file.
